Persona Poem – Helen Martins

29

July 27, 2017 by petrujviljoen

Helen, Helen, why did you hide?

I, who walked obliquely

(they cut off my little toes)

was a daytime furtive

a wizened, furrowed, wrinkled wraith-

I danced my shadow selves at night naked

 

 

Helen, Helen, why did you cry?

 

 Ugly and dirty long before

I lived even though I was pretty. The

serving and the serving. The serving made

me cry. After she and he and he and the baby died.

 

Helen, Helen, what did you create?

 

First thing I did was throw out the stove. Ha!

After that long night, the business with the

(lack of) light, the protracted shudder of grey

existence. Apprehended for the time. I. Being.

Owl.

 

Living the numinous night

light uniquely intended, acutely created

the social realm transcended

 

an enigmatic conception of

Biblical proportion

I, tiny, wiry sparrow so called.

 

Three hours in counted normal time it took

lighting lamps, candles. The night. The ritual.

Softening. The ridicule.

 

 

Helen, Helen, how did you live?

 

I lived by the spoon put by the making of the

unspawned being, nourishment incomplete

 I stayed and loved and others fed. Me. When I

let them.

 

I lived by tremendous surge of suppressed

hunger.  Amidst banal accepted routine of

them who said they will. Like me, be like us.

And I? Couldn’t.

 

Helen, Helen, how did you die?

I died as I lived. By my hands, shredded,

bared  to crushed glass. Pierced,

punctured, consumed right through.

My ashes were in red. The owl was

unburdened.

……

Linked to Dverse Poets

About Helen Martins, South Africa’s most famous outsider artist. https://theowlhouse.co.za

I made this for the creative writing course offered at Novoed, Power of the Pen, Identity, Community and Social Issues in Poetry and Plays: https://app.novoed.com/poetry-and-plays-2017. The course has just started, into its first week, should anyone be interested in joining.